


Drowning in Petals

by awkward_and_delirious



Category: Dear Evan Hansen, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: ALANA AND JARED ARE BEST FRIENDS AND I LOVE THEM THEYRE SO PURE ITS SO GOOD, And I mean slow, Conner and Jared do not get along at all ever, Connor Isn't dead, Connor is also an asshole, Evan is really oblivious, Everyone is very oblivious for some reason idk ??, F/F, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, Jared Being an Asshole, Jared cries a lot, Jared is incredibly gay, Jared is jealous, Jared is secretly a pure smol soft boi fight me, M/M, Pining Jared, Self-Loathing, Slow Build, So much angst, The plot of it all kinda didn't happen ?, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, angry unhealthy bois, evan is bi, everyone is a 3D character, really slow build, so everyone's on sorta good terms, sometimes graphic, use of marijuana/pot (mentioned), y'all no smut here my boys may be assholes but they're innocent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_and_delirious/pseuds/awkward_and_delirious
Summary: Jared Kleinman is stuck creating bouquets in his bedroom almost every night, all because of stupid Evan Hansen.(slow ass updates because even tho I love this story with my entire being I'm lazy as all hell and I'm sorry about that)





	1. A Brief Explanation of an Asshole's Issue

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo; just want to say that this is my first [published] fic (I'm so cliche) and I'm really hoping that I actually update this ??  
> Also, a fair two warnings: there are homophobic slurs in this, as there is internalized homophobia. And I write really weird descriptions of things ??? I'm pretty calm and normal in this chapter, but you might find some...strange stuff in later chapters. I don't know, it's weird.  
> Also occasionally I will be coming back to this chapter (and others, once those are written) to edit, because I am a sucker for detail and I kinda want this to actually be okay

To be cliché, it all started around a year ago.

The year Jared Kleinman was introduced to Evan Hansen. Of course, Jared didn't want to open up and get attached to some sweaty, stuttering kid -all he wanted to do was flip him off and go play video games by himself. However, his parents told him that if he hung out with at least one person -and this specific kid- they would pay for his car insurance. That was an unusual offer for them, as it was a big deal, so he had to comply.

The first couple of months (five and a half, to be exact) Jared resented him. He was the biggest asshole to the poor guy. He rarely spoke to him, but when he did his tone was snarky, sometimes even commanding. He was harshly criticizing to the polo-clad, made fun of any of his interests or anything he said -especially if he stuttered. He took advantage of anything in his house, didn't even ask if he could take certain things. Of course, Evan just nodded along, he rarely protested, too afraid to. As soon as Heidi Hanson, Evan's mom came home or walked into the room, Jared would just smile and act as if he and her son were the best of friends.

But all that douche-baggery did the opposite of what Jared wanted. He wanted the attitude to create reasons for him to hate Evan, to make sure that no connections would be made. To put a steel wall around his heart and stop _anyone_ from getting in or any feelings to form.

What could he say? He had issues.

But all it really did was make him feel guilty. _Incredibly_ guilty. It made him want to actually talk to Evan. Not in an asshole, snarky way -but in a legitimate, kind of friend way. He actually wanted to apologize to him.

He hated it.

And he hated himself, even more than before.

He began hating himself even more when he began to soften; ease up on Evan.

The tree loving bastard seriously didn't deserve the treatment he was receiving from his supposed "only friend".

Jared may be a master dick, but that didn't mean he wasn't observant. 

He noticed how delicate Evan was, how any sentence could send him reeling into a panic attack. His anxiety was hardcore and Jared would not be the cause of any sort of thing like that. He knew he was a terrible person, but he never wanted to be terrible enough to cause panic attacks. 

To do that is pure evil.

 

So Jared began to be (slightly) nicer to Evan; because he knew he could handle any betrayal or heartbreak if it was from Evan. Besides, they were barely close so it wouldn't really affect in any way. He would still keep his defenses though; just in case. He could go back to being Douchebag Numero Uno.

 _Big mistake_ , he told himself. A month and a week after getting to the status of "kind-of-friends-not-really" and actually not ignoring or bickering/hating each other (well, just Jared did all that. Evan never did a thing to wrong Jared.), Jared caught himself blushing slightly when Heidi Hansen called to ask him to hang out with her son.

God, he wanted to shoot himself.

He dismissed every instance of it, pissed at the thought that Evan Hansen -the boy who would fuck a tree if he had the confidence to even flirt with one- made it past all his now useless defenses. It only got worse. He had to spend _more_ time with Evan after Heidi had to take up even more shifts at work, and his stupid heart would ~~gladly~~ take every chance it could to beat faster for that boy.

Convenient, right?

And then it  _actually_ started.

 

Jared was at Evan's house (what else was new) and they were hanging out in the living room. Heidi was at work, so Evan had the courage to migrate with his kind-of-friend downstairs. It was late at night -Jared would probably leave once Heidi got back -and they were watching a stupid TV show: "Say Yes To the Dress." Evan loved it, and Jared was sworn to never tell _anyone_ about it. The polo-clad boy was sitting on the floor, crisscross-applesauce style, while Jared was sprawled on the couch. A sigh flew from Evan's lips and he leaned back against a foot rest.

"I wonder what it's like to pick out a-a dress...or something for such, uh, for such an important event in your life." His voice was soft, distant and dreamy-like, cluing that some lenient, painted star sprinkled dream was draped over his eyes. He continued, "I-it must be really, uh, exciting but s-scary and nerve-wracking at the same time." Jared scoffed lightly.

"What? Marriage? Of course it's all that; you could be stuck with that one person for almost twenty-four seven. You might end up hating each other. That'll make it hella awkward for literally everyone you know." Evan, who had turned to face him while Jared was talking, frowned. He opened his mouth for a second, contemplating on saying something, and his fingers started to twitch.

"I-I like to think of it as, uh, having a s-sleepover with your best friend every day, or something like t-that." A light blush spread over his cheeks as he spoke, embarrassment obvious in his downcast eyes. Jared's cheeks began to heat up as well, his mind throwing images and whispers of his stupid-ass feelings based off of Evan's cute-ass description of marriage. Guilt flooded his mind for his douchebag back-talk of marriage; but reassurance came from his defenses.

_You have to keep being an asshole, more so than occasionally, so he knows that you actually are an asshole and therefore you won't grow any closer, and then nothing bad will happen to either of you. You know what you're doing and you know how to keep these stupid emotions on low. You're only holding up one part of the act, now do the other too._

Still, his mind was imagining that concept -what Evan would look like in a tux, what it would be like to spend all day every day with him, cook things with and for him, tell jokes, cuddle...

"As stupid as it sounds, I a-actually can't w-wait for the day I g-get to marry the...the girl I love." Jared's stupid fantasy came crashing down around him. He was grabbed by the ankle, punctured in the collarbone, and slapped with a block of ice back into reality.

Evan likes girls, confirmed.

Jared's heart sank, falling into a pit where it was shred to pieces by the real world. 

Evan was straight, and normal -while he was a freak, a fag who was creepily crushing on his friend.

Were they even friends? No, or course not.

So now he was even creepier. 

Jared forced himself to laugh, say something. Words flew off his lips but he didn't even know what they were.

 

An itching began in his throat; light and barely there, like a feather being waved over a dish of water. It grew, beginning to feel like a tiny claw was in his throat, poking with sharp fingers, raking down the sides. Little pinpoints jabbing lightly in just the right-but wrong-place. He tried to ignore it, swallowing a little in hopes that the rush of saliva would wipe it away, drown away the small claws. It didn't work. The sensation grew harsher and climbed to cover the entirety of his esophagus.

"H-hey, Ev, I'm gonna run to the bathroom." His voice was wavering, making Jared inwardly curse at himself. Before the other boy could respond, Jared was already up from the couch and nearly dashing to the first floor bathroom.

He threw his back against the door as soon as he made it in the small room, and the scratching nearly exploded out, cascading out his mouth in a rush of jagged butterflies. A cough wracked his body, rough and choking, each cough tearing at the walls of his throat. He couldn't stop. He couldn't breathe.

It felt like he was coughing up his large intestine but through the method of coughing. His eyes were scrunched up tightly in pain, tears welling up in them. He had crippled over in his fit, now on the floor, a hand cupped over his mouth. Abruptly, the itching ceased, and his cough did as well. A silence wafted through the bathroom, and Jared sat there, small tears still dotting his eyes, a hand still cupped to his mouth. He began almost gulping air, too focused on actually breathing for once to feel something fall from his mouth into his hand. His breathing slowed, and he pulled his hand away from his face, a string of saliva clinging to the edge of his palm and lips like a forgotten string of silk. His eyes caught onto a slip of an object in his hand and his body finally registered that there was something there.

It was a petal. A couple, actually. They were soft, delicate. They had a slight dent in the of them, causing them to curl upwards, the end of them barely touching Jared's skin. The top, or end of the petal, really, was naturally carved to have two points, a dip between both of the soft tips. There were faint lines, tiny little dents in the felt of the petal. There was some saliva dribbled across them, causing a thin, grey to splotch onto the creamy white of the petal. There were some barely noticeable, tiny, speckles, of thick dark red liquid dotted over a couple of the velvety petals. A slight stream of fear poured through the boy's body. He was feeling too faint to actually indulge in the fear, though, so he just stared blankly. He sat in an empty silence, simply staring at his hand.

There were fucking  _petals_ in  _his hand_.

That totally weren't there before.

That he basically threw up.

He  _threw up_ fucking  _parts of a flower_. 

At last it registered in his mind.

 

 A scream jumped out of Jared's mouth and he jerked back, hitting his head against the door and throwing the flower petals away from him. His right hand fell beside him, landing in something wet. Instinctively, he jerked his hand back and cast his eyes on it to check what it was.

Red.

Blood.

So he coughed up flowers  _and_ blood. 

Fucking great. 

He was even more of a freak now.

 

Abruptly his stomach lurched and his throat burned, causing Jared to keel over, hot iron coughs wracking his body once more. Something was caught in his throat and all he could focus on was getting it out and getting it out  _now_. It hurt, it felt like a metal hair brush was being stroked down his throat, a frosted iron poker forcing itself between his intestines and piercing past them, a heavy-duty frying pan being slammed against his head. Cloud kissed tears slipped past his eyes, trailing down his sunset-stroked cheeks and falling onto the cool floor. A small flood poured from his mouth and splattered against the tile.

_Oh god he was throwing up._

A thick dizziness enveloped Jared's mind, and he gradually opened his eyes -wincing slightly at the thought of having to look at vomit. Below him, instead of a lump of liquid-solid mixture with strange colors and foreign chunks in it, was a small pile of petals, maybe a whole flower or two mixed in with the rest. Jared's mind was blank. He just stared at the pile of innocent, blood-splattered, saliva dribbled, heavenly white petals. 

Time no longer existed, his limbs were filled with wet sand. All he could hear was a distant ringing; possibly the hum of the house's air conditioner, too. Eventually his arms couldn't withstand all of his weight and fell out beneath him. He shakily stood up, eyes still glued to the flowers. He felt numb. He scooped the tiny pile up, ignoring the feeling of the bubbly saliva quickly running down onto his wrist, and the cool blood dripping onto his arm, and dumped them in the trash bin. He lazily dropped some toilet paper over it, so no once could hopefully see it. Jared stumbled out of the bathroom, that distant and heavy void spilling over his body.

He peeked around the corner into the living room, seeing Evan still sitting there.

_Shit._

He could either walk in and pretend everything was fine, or make up an excuse to go home. As much as he loved staying in the Hansens' house, he never wanted to bolt out and shut himself in his room more than ever. 

So, lying it was.

Jared swallowed, ignoring the slight burn, and stepped out from behind the corner.

"Hey, Ev," He began, cursing himself for his supposedly shaking voice. "I'm not feeling too hot right now, despite my appearance, and as much as I would love to see which ugly dress Brooke chooses for her white-ass wedding, I think I should go." That sounded good enough. Could work on the suave, though. Evan's face fell slightly, probably thinking that it was something that he did, and he drew his knees closer to his body. He nodded, though.

"O-okay...f-feel better, I guess." He mumbled. Jared forced himself to smile and wave as he began to move towards the hallway leading to the front door.

"I totally will once I'm done fucking your mom!" He called over his shoulder. Nice, Jared, real fucking nice. A laugh, with an accent of bitterness, pried itself out from between his lips at Evan's stunned and disgusted protest.

As the front door closed behind him, a sky bitten tear began to slip from Jared's eyes and he forced himself to swallow a petal.


	2. Lucky Charms Are False-Advertising Pricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always get worried about the second chapter, it's never as good as the first. For my writing, at least. I'm hoping this is a bit more than mediocre.
> 
> Also this is set the day after Jared discovered his...condition. The next chapter (or halfway through this one idk whoops) will be...actual present day ? Because it's still the "year ago" sooo
> 
> ['lil easter egg: the song used for his alarm, I took from the playlist Will Roland made for/in mind of Jared soooo ;)))]

The night that the flowers tumbled from Jared's throat became the one that he marked as the start of a nightmare.

Of course, as soon as he had shut himself in his room, he had grabbed his laptop and scoured the internet for any kind of hint about his...condition. Eventually he had discovered an article, after he typed in "coughing up flowers." (Because for some reason he googled literally everything else that didn't sound remotely like the actual condition he now had.) It was about a disease, that scientists called Hanahaki Disease. It was apparently rare and most research on it kind of died out in the 90s.

He scrolled through the article slowly, actually interested in it.

_"The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned."_

Jared scoffed, almost laughed. One-sided love? Love took a long time to develop, and he really didn't have anyone that close to him...so? 

Maybe he actually threw up and he hallucinated flowers because there was something in the salad he ate. Maybe Mister School Shooter himself slipped a couple things into his lunch and it finally took affect. 

Jared shrugged. Seemed legit. 

 

This "Hannah-Hockey Disease" was such a fraud, a poke at some weird writer's fantasy of cruelty and sickened love. 

He would wake up tomorrow, and the drugs would (hopefully) be out of his system by then.

Jared sat for a moment, laptop screen illuminating his dimly lit bedroom as he thought. 

Yeah. He had to have been drugged.

The laptop's lid closed, a slight click sound coming from it, and it's trademarked logo dimmed until it turned completely dark. The overhead light shut off along with Jared's train of thought with a soft flick of the light switch. A comforting darkness quickly melted over the room, the only sound coming from the mattress when Jared collapsed on it. Sleep slowly began to entangle itself around his brain, pulling his eyelids closed and putting on a display of sun-patched picnics in his mind.

 

There was a shrill tone blaring on and off, an ungodly screech clawing at the sleeping boy's ears and seeping through to suffocate his brain. Sleep slowly released it's clench on him, and he rose -blankets still wrapped tightly around his body. Jared rolled out of bed and shuffled over to his dresser, slamming his hand down upon his alarm clock. He stayed there for a minute, eyes barely open and staring blankly in front of him.

He did  _not_ want to be awake or alive right now.

He stumbled back over to his bed and collapsed, breath being smothered and thickened by the pillow. His thick-blanketed mind created a haze over last night and all its events, sizzling out any attempts at remembering the torment of blossoms that sprouted from his lungs. 

Another alarm shot off, this time from his phone that was charging by his bed. Rebecca Back's "Friday" started blaring, helping in the release of sleep from his body. He pushed himself off the bed, groaning a bit at the lack of soft blankets and warmth. Somehow he was able to find his glasses and then shut off his music/alarm. He wandered downstairs, the t-shirt he slept in riding up a little in the back despite how baggy it was.

"Good morning, son!" The crisp, bright sound of his dad's voice startled Jared, causing him to tiredly stumble backwards. 

"Oh, hey dad." He murmured. He rubbed his eyes and tried to get used to the lighting.

Jared had to admit, he really didn't know how to interact with his parents. He didn't hate them, but he wasn't all that fond of them either.

He didn't mean to sound like a terrible person, even though he was, but it just kind of felt like they were....simply there. There was no strong relationship. Just the occasional greeting and asking how the day was, sometimes telling jokes. There wasn't any time to really get to know them or get very close.

Nothing like a Hallmark movie.

They were always going out on business trips. Again, not to sound awful, but Jared kind of preferred them away. And his parents had a huge store of expensive alcohol they never bothered to drink or keep track of. It was basically his liquor cabinet; and he had to admit, some nights really called for getting shit-faced drunk.

The bowl the seventeen year old had grabbed clinked softly against the marble tile of the counter as he set it down. He stared into the cabinet, eyes fixated on a bright red cereal box. He pulled it out, glancing at his dad.

"Since when did we buy 'Lucky Charms'?" He asked, voice slightly flat in criticism. Mr. Kleinman looked up from his book and laughed.

"I saw it in the store and figured you may need a breakfast that will send a little... _luck_ your way." Jared groaned, dad jokes would always be the bane of his existence. He had to resist the urge to bash either his or his dad's head with the box. 

Either way sounded good.

Jared cast his eyes at the bright box for a moment.

_Fuck it, there's nothing better anyway. What could go wrong?_

_A million things, actually. All of them starting with you._

The flow of the sugary cereal was loud and jarring as it collided with the ceramic of the bowl. Jared had no clue as to why his parents insisted on buying bowls and shit from Pottery Barn or wherever. He wasn't a fan -it made his house feel even  _more_  stiff and forced.

Everything was incredibly clean. The scheme of the kitchen was white and light blue. The wood floor was white, along with the wood cabinets and marble counter tops. The cabinets had a light blue trim around them, and there were neatly set candles and cork-board coasters. He felt like he was in a home depot magazine or aesthetic blog on Tumblr.

Mr. Kleinman got up and left, leaving his son sitting alone in the kitchen. The latter sat on a stool by the counter, the cereal box sitting in front of his bowl of breakfast. His eyes continuously scanned over the box, draining out every detail. 

 _"They're magically delicious."_  It read.

Jared glanced down at his bowl. The contents swirled around slowly, tiny "marshmallows" bobbing and slowly deteriorating. He took another spoonful. In this...bite though, a quick thought, a slip of a memory flashed through the back of his mind, and a petal rose in his throat, a slight itch scraping at the walls. He swallowed, the marshmallows and tiny white petal spilling down into his stomach. 

He glanced back up at the slogan.

A scoff brushed past Jared's lips. 

"Yeah right. These taste like shit." 

 

The sugary cereal flooded into the sink, mixing with pouring water that washed away the milk and any magic the cereal could have brought.

 

 

School was a slow paced, reeking hell. Luckily after three classes Jared was sent off to lunch. He always stayed at his locker and scrolled through his phone though. 

So here he was, leaning against the locker next to his, eyes locked onto his phone screen, some vine compilation playing quietly. Nothing was actually leaking into his ears, nothing was processing in his brain.

Everything just felt quiet, a sort of floaty, dizzying void-like feeling spread throughout his body. A feeling of contentment. 

That was actually one of the main reasons Jared liked staying by his locker instead of entering the cafeteria of mass chaos and gossip. He didn't do it just to look cool. He had time to be encased in silence for once in this hell, watch stupid videos, post dumb things on tumblr, spam Alana Beck on snapchat when he  _knew_ that she was in extra classes. He didn't have to talk to anyone. It didn't bother him like Evan though, he didn't mind talking to people. But it was just more comforting at his locker, a place that he had painted over with  _his_ fingerprints and crumpled up homework. It was weird, but it was better. 

Plus, he didn't really enjoy putting his hands down onto sticky tables and shoving god-knows-what into his mouth while loud chatter whisked around him. But it was mostly because of the tables. Those things were disgusting.

The tap of footsteps sprung into the teen's ears, and he looked up. Alana Beck herself was making her way down the hallway, his direction. He leaned against his locker, a smirk on his face. If she for some reason decided to stop and lecture him for not being in the " _salle à manger de la merde~_ " , he was ready to weave in some lies and a couple douchebag side-eyes.

"Hey Jared," she started, voice smooth and bright -like the underside of a cat's claw. "Have you seen Zoe around?" 

Oh. Not the lecture he was expecting. The question was better though. 

Jared shrugged.

"I haven't, but I'll look for her." Alana stepped closer, her hands pushed out a bit in front of her and slight alarm in her eyes.

"No, no! You don't have to do that! I wouldn't want to distract you from your...lunch...?" Jared shoved his phone into his pocket and slammed his locker shut with a flick of his wrist.

"Alana, chill. I finished lunch long ago and you probably have a student council meeting right now. I don't think the council's president should be missing a meeting." He paused for a moment, eyes flashing to the floor for a second. "Student council  _does_ meet at lunch every day, right?" Alana smiled, some bit of spilled coffee stress behind her eyes.

"Yeah, they do." Jared nodded, proceeding.

"Right, so  _I'll_ look for Miss Zoe Murphy, and you go to your meeting of the higher-ups. If I find her I'll send her right to you. Sound good?" Alana sighed.

"Alright. Thanks." Jared smiled at her for a second before she walked off. A soft breath tumbled off his lips and he prepared himself to tear his legs off after climbing two flights of stairs.

 

The search for Zoe Murphy was kind of calming- all Jared did was roll around the halls on his Heelys, peering into classrooms and occasionally calling her name. All he needed was some elevator music and he was set. Once though, the wheel in his left shoe caught on some pencil that a kid tried to turn into a DIY shiv and he fell forward, breath wrapping itself to his rib cage, eyes wide and glasses falling askew. No one was there to witness it though, so all that was said was:

"Wow, super cool, Jared. Best ollie-outie the world has seen yet."

He was a smooth guy.

Jared continued rolling down the halls, when there was a voice cutting through the mostly silent halls of the concrete purgatory. It was quiet, so he couldn't quite hear all that was being said, but it was definitely there. Then there was another one, louder, and sounding mostly like honey spread over a filter of sunlight and memory-speckled dust in a cottage.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it." Jared peered around the corner.  _Score_. There was Zoe Murphy. Talking to someone...or herself...but that didn't matter, he had to break up her conversation and send her off to Alana. He stepped out from behind the wall, prepared to start blabbing some nail dipped interruption. His eyes caught onto the person standing by her, and his face began to feel hot.

It was Evan.

The nervous boy was rambling on about something to Zoe, fingers twitching and pulling at his shirt.

"Oh my god." Jared murmured to himself. "He actually did it."

The nerd was actually talking to someone other than Jared for once, without that much a problem too. Usually the tree-lover would barely say anything, keep his head down and try to quickly and politely get away. This looked like the two had been talking for a couple minutes. Jared's brain went into a mild frenzy, eyes fixated on the polo-clad boy who was now smiling at Zoe.

An itching slithered to the bottom of Jared's throat, barely noticeable, but still raking a butterfly needle claw down the sides. It slowly began to climb up his throat, feeling like a match that wouldn't light against the box -scratching and scratching to no avail. A heavy weight flooded into his stomach, and the grip of a headache clenched around his brain.

Jared must have zoned out, staring blankly at the two people ahead of him, because they were suddenly hugging and Evan's cheeks were the color of a carousel's chimes mixed with fire.

Not to be rude, but the embrace totally lasted way too long.

The itching spread like a rumor, covering the entirety of Jared's throat. The itch was maddening, it felt like the skin in his throat was going to be scratched and burned off with bleach and a blunt pencil tip. The headache's force worsened, feeling like two fire alarms on full distortion were blasting and a q-tip was being navigated through his brain. His stomach bubbled, twisting and curling up. 

Jared darted from the scene; the searing pain in his head too loud for him to hear the loud squeak of his shoes on the the dirty tile.

 

The bathroom was empty, and the desperate seventeen year old had never believed in Jesus more. The nearest stall door was flung open, the plastic slamming against the chipped wall and echoing throughout the room.

 _Bad choice._ He thought, the banging in his head increasing.

He thrust the lock over the door and spun around to face the toilet.

_Oh god._

Of course he had to vomit in the school bathroom, the worst place to even walk into.

But the itching was nearly shredding his throat to pieces and his stomach was almost being squeezed to the point of bursting, so he had to make due with what he had presented.

A burning cough lunged past his lips and wracked his body, forcing Jared to lean over the toilet. Brittle teapot tears pricked at his eyes and splotted onto his glasses. Razor blade hacks raked through his body, and a thick stream of...something poured from his lips. The boy wheezed, trying to get back the breath he violently exhaled. He fell back against the stall wall and pitifully slid down, completely done with everything. He just wanted to be home, away from all these people and no offense but he wanted to be far away from Evan-

His chest pulled tight and he started choking. Three flowers subtly fell out of his mouth and floated to the ground with dismal heartbeats sewn in. 

Jared leaned his head back against the wall, exhaustion sweeping through his body. Something dribbled out his mouth and down his chin, but he couldn't care less at this point. It dripped off his chin, the sound of something liquid-like hitting the cool tile. Whatever. Why? Why was this even happening? He hadn't felt sick all day, but one look at his best friend -no, not even close. Acquaintance. Car-Insurance-Deal. One look at his neighbor and some girl he kind of talked to, and he was vomiting three buckets of the school's lunch. Zero sense, but sure, it was a fun way to skip school and shit. The dribble that ran down his chin was still going strong, now bringing a light tingle to his skin. Quickly but tiredly, he dragged his arm over his mouth. He was done with feelings of itchiness for today.

When oxygen and some sort of calm finally filled the boy, he slowly opened his eyes, ignoring the still-there tears on his glasses. His brow furrowed at the sight of the three, oddly familiar flowers by his feet, but forced himself to not get distracted and do his job of getting rid of the evidence of his regurgitation. Fun.

There were flowers all over the toilet seat. And even more _in_ the fucking toilet water. 

 

This was bullshit. Either Jared was totally on acid or....yeah, he had to be tripping on acid for this shit. Because there was no way in hell he was legitimately vomiting flowers. A memory quickly smacked him the head; the article. Nope, that was bullshit. It was just a prompt for some sick writers to choke down and orgasm at the thought of. He would prove to himself that he was tripping and the flowers he was seeing, weren't flowers. 

He reached down and grasped a flower, ignoring the saliva dribbled over it. He stared at it -the white petals sitting innocently in his hand. He ran his fingers over it, the velvet texture only adding to what others would call its beauty. Jared laughed, fear strongly mixed in with it. He glanced uneasily at the mess strewn over the toilet.

It was like a bouquet blew up in a toilet. Which was kind of what happened, if a certain seventeen year old Jewish male hiding in a stall after having his heart indirectly slightly crushed was a bundle of specific flowers, then yes. There was nearly an entire bush of just petals floating around. They were incredibly innocent looking, like a bowl of cream with red ribbon wrapped around it. There were full on flowers too, more than there were petals. They looked like angel-glazed roses, but less snobbish and tightly-held together. They were all mixed together, delicately floating around the surface of the water -but barely, as there was hardly any space not taken up by plants. It looked like nostalgia and threads of film were the souls of this display before him. 

To bring the whole, lovely, totally-not-terrifying picture together, there were thick strings of blood in the water, and copious amounts more staining the pure flowers. 

If Lucky Charms really did distribute luck, then they were terrible at discerning what the fuck luck was because it was  _not_ this.

Jared dreadfully looked at his arm, the same one he wiped his mouth with. There was a large streak of blood along his arm, smearing across his shirt sleeve. His fingers cautiously flew up to his chin, where there was a somewhat-dry, now sticky stream of blood glued there. How he didn't taste it before, he had no clue. Maybe it was the same reason why he couldn't taste the  _fucking flowers_ he was  _coughing the fuck up_. 

The sound of the door opening made his body stiff, nerves shooting through him a mile a millisecond. He peeked under the stall door, attempting to not make a sound with his glasses against the floor, and trying to see who it was. 

It was a tall boy with a poor choice of a haircut (it was a buzz cut. Only certain people could pull that off, and Jared had to say it definitely wasn't this guy.) who he had never seen before, so he was in the clear. He stood up and took a breath, before opening the stall door.

"Excuse me, bald eagle, but is this a flower?" He asked, cocky smoothness nearly expertly embroidered in with it. He knew it was a stupid question, but he needed to make sure that he most definitely wasn't tripping balls.

The other boy looked at him in confusion and slight anger, probably because of the insult.

"...Yeah...why? Are you unable to see that it is, four eyes?" Jared stared at him with a bored expression. That was the lamest comeback he's heard yet. 

"Actually, yeah I can. I just wanted to test if your eyes were as eagle-eyed as some people claim your species to be. Thanks for the confirmation, and good luck with your next lawn-mowing session. It clearly worked out well last time." Jared glanced up at the boy's head. The boy's face grew red and his eyes resembled hot sake spilled in a microwave. Jared only smirked. 

"Better get your wings flapping, don't want to miss your class." The boy could have punched him, but somehow decided to just leave. Good spirit. "Oh, and good luck getting you and your other bald eagle friends off of the endangered species list!" He called after the boy. 

At least something good came out of this garden department puking session.

 

 

Jared tiredly wheeled out of the bathroom (his beautiful Heelys left with only two spots of blood on the soles) and to the main office. Hopefully he could just go the fuck home. The lady at the desk gave him a confused look, but all he had to say was "I threw up" and his dad was called to come pick him up. The fifteen minutes he had for waiting he used to (once again) research this thing he had. Eventually his ride arrived and he collapsed into the passenger seat and proceeded to stare out the window, not speaking once. When he got home, his dad asked what caused his sickness -Jared hadn't thrown up at school since third grade. His response was merely

"The lying a-holes that make Lucky Charms." 

He locked himself in his bedroom after that, the lecture about eating healthy portions still echoing in his mind. He was fatigued. Still, complete lack of energy and capability to do anything other than breathe, didn't stop images of a certain shaky, self-addressed letter writing boy from slipping into his mind before he nearly choked on a flower and passed out.

 

Throwing up flowers and blood was exhausting.

 

But at least it hurt less than seeing stupid Tree Boy and Jazz Band Girl hugging like that. 


	3. Stalking???? What is that???? I Believe It's Intense Reading A Not-Book

The previous year had brought Jared Kleinman a long sling of innocent terror and a cruder, but more nature-tinted mouth.

As torturous as the first year of surprise flowerbed fluster vomiting was, it helped Jared recognize what certain things and/or thoughts caused or triggered it, and what symptoms came before it.

He didn't want to admit to himself that the cause of his now physical pain was Evan Hansen, but the only way to accept that flowers were being upchucked was to realize that a person was probably making you do it.

At least the flowers smelled nice.

 

Jared's eyes slowly opened, a soft rattlesnake scale melted behind them with a veil of snow kissed scarves. The alarm barely touched his eardrums, his mind too busy trying to recall clips from a very detailed dream about a red mop. 

Geez, he had issues.

He quickly ripped open his backpack, checking for everything he could possibly need besides the usual notebook. A plastic bag, a travel package of tissues, a bag of incredibly strong wintergreen mints, another travel pack of wet wipes this time (for the blood), an extra water bottle. He nodded to himself, nervous breath pushing out. He glanced up quickly, eyes scanning and hesitating on the clock above him. His hands flew over the fabric of the backpack, zipping it up faster than the Flash could blink. He stumbled out the door, the glass over door nearly launching off it's hinges at the power of rushed boy's shove. He tripped over the curb that lined the end of his driveway, scuffing onto the pavement, but he quickly rushed back up to his house to lock the door. He didn't think anyone could say the word "shit" as many times and as fast as he had in just two seconds. His parents were semi-rich, what was he going to do- let people rob them?

Actually, sure. Why not.

If they took all the shit from Pottery Barn he would track them down only to thank them.

 

His feet tapped against the pavement, the wheel in each of the heels doing no help. Luckily he made it to the bus-stop merely a moment before the bright vehicle did.

Jared almost immediately turned right back around and went home.

School buses were disgusting. That was a fact known worldwide. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if the entire universe knew it. Jared wrinkled his nose, thinking of all the cons, which basically were the only things on a list about a bus, but tried to prepare himself for the transportation version of hell. Buses always had an atmosphere of dirt and discolored liquid. A rancid smell weaved through the hood of the lorry, clutching onto anything within five feet. He was not interested in having his nostrils ripped apart and smelling like a dead rat for half the day. However, he managed to take a step forward and was seemingly swallowed by the wall of grease, New York cough-syrup and lead rolled steam; just like every morning.

The aisle was grimy, the grooves/lines in the plastic "cover" for the tiny passage space were filled with pencil bits and crumbs. The actual floor was uncomfortably sticky; from kids' juice boxes and god-knows what.

The least he could say was that he felt bad for whoever had to watch the bus "security tapes." Which existed for some reason.

Why wasn't he being called Jesus by this point? He walked through a wall that resembled, no, basically was the land of the devil every week day. The "real" Jesus could walk on water. Him? He could walk through a cloud of hell and through law. Scratch that whole Jesus thing, he was probably Satan more than anyone from the Bible. 

 

Jared sat near the back (more of the back of the middle section), and placed his backpack on the space next to him- the universal sign of "don't sit next to me, dick." Evan had texted him a couple minutes ago saying that he wasn't feeling well so he wasn't coming. Jared dug out his phone and hit shuffle, stuffing his earbuds into his ears and muting the somehow energetic teens around him. If Evan wasn't there today, what was the point of bashing his eardrums in with the screams of other people?

He leaned his head against the window, ignoring the fact that once the bus started moving the glass would vibrate with an violent and uncomfortable intensity. But this morning seemed like a good one to get a concussion. 

Eventually the bus pulled to a final stop and the kids in the aisle lurched forward. They slowly filed out, then melted into a large crowd all trying to squeeze into the doors of the school. Jared shuffled along, occasionally wheeling around when there was miraculously enough space. Comments and greetings from people he barely knew whizzed around his head and he merely replied with half-assed insults and comments that he didn't even register he was saying. 

 

Classes were boring, what more could be said. Jared stared ahead with a dull expression as the teacher droned on about how to create the exact format she wanted for the paper they apparently had to write now. Thankfully she saw that it was almost time to leave, and she sent all her students out to drag themselves up a flight of stairs to return the laptops. As Jared trailed behind the line of his fellow peers, his eyes trailed over to the glass that separated the hallway from the guidance counselor's office. And sitting inside, attitude and all, was the familiar head of Hot Topic's wet dream. Jared smiled, a shard of wax dipped needles behind it, new material already filling his head.

 

Another bell rung and he found himself standing at his locker, his phone in his hands and blasting distortion from a video through his earbuds. He could still hear the chatter of the other students, which was the real distortion of his life. He sighed and stuffed his phone away, unlike the rest of the world, and looked over to the locker six away from his. Jared's eyes splashed with iron flakes and ginger tea, and a smile made of soon-to-be-spiced honey grew on his face.

But no one was there; and then he remembered that Evan wasn't there today. 

A faint glimmer of biscuit crumbs and quilts spread over his mind, and his wide smile dropped to a small content one.

Honestly, Jared kind of liked- actually, preferred -it when Evan was absent. He didn't hate him, despite the way he acted toward him he never could even manage to hate him, but it simply made the day easier. He only had to talk to and say stupid, spiteful comments to some other acquaintances he kinda had, and he didn't have to look at those pretty, dream infested, tea leaf eyes, or hear his spring-bitten voice.

A petal unknowingly slipped up his throat, but was dragged down with a wave of water from Jared's water bottle. 

The amount of times he flower vomited went down by 83% when Evan wasn't there, and that basically trumped everything in Jared's life. The other 17% was caused by him beginning to think too much, which he was somehow avoiding today. Jared took another sip of water. He set his water bottle down and his eyes traveled up, catching onto a curl of long brown hair that whisked behind a corner. He quickly shut his locker and sprinted after the person, a cheesy smirk appearing on his face.

Jared turned the corner and his jog immediately halted- instead it melted into a smooth stride, which made it look like he had just strolled into school. 

"What's up Morphine?"

Connor Murphy whipped around at the "nickname", a warning glare made of ash and crushed icecubes sent directly at his grade-school minded burden.

"What." Acid sprinkled over his singular words, causing Jared to casually raise his arms up in a mock surrender.

"I saw you in the shrink's office earlier," Jared explained coolly, but a cynical undertone cut through Connor's ears, "What happened? Has your emo-ness consumed you and you needed to just pour out your lonely poetry to some bootleg therapist?" Connor glared at him, the look in his eyes becoming more deadly.

"Shut the hell up, Kleinman." His voice was becoming quicker, rushed and pumped full of snow-lined cigarettes and mold. Jared suddenly gasped, and placed one hand over his heart and another over his mouth in mock social horror. 

"I-I'm so sorry. D-did I mistake you as emo? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed that about you. Why didn't I see that you're really a scene kid? Please, f-forgive me." Jared slowly brought his hand down from over his mouth as he spoke, revealing a cat strung smile. A giggle slipped out his mouth. 

"Shut the fuck up. Do you really think you're that funny?"

"Well-"

Connor roughly shoved Jared's shoulder back, forcing him to stumble back against a wall of lockers. 

"You're pathetic. You think you're just the funniest fucking person, when you're just this annoying, desperate little shithead trying to be a comedian. Shut the hell up for once and realize that your worthless attempts at being funny do  _nothing_. News flash, Kleinman," The taller boy's words suddenly gained a burning sandpaper sound, anger radiating off of him, "when someone first meets you, they don’t like you. But when someone gets to know you? They hate you." A shaky, anger filled smile forced itself onto Connor's face and Jared felt his face fall from his cocky smirk to some defeated look. His cocky smile returned faster than Sonic could create a nightmare though, and he slipped out from between the lockers and the very pissed Murphy. He backed away and shrugged lightly before saying, 

"Hey, if you don't like the content, don't watch the show." He turned back around and rounded the corner, and his smirk burst into a giant grin. A drop of adrenaline and excitement abruptly spread through his veins and he sprinted to his next class. 

A giggle burst from his chest and Jared jumped like a Mario character. The comeback he made was fucking amazing! And the way he just walked off afterwards, leaving that asshole to stand there stupidly? He didn't remember anything that happened during that class, except the feeling of pride and excitement that rushed throughout his electric-snapping mind. 

 

Jared was beyond thankful for study halls. 

They were like a sanctuary for bored souls who only got more bored and wasted their phone's battery life, the place where barely any actual work was done unless you had an essay due next period. Personally, he came here simply to relax. He rarely did work in here, but he was more respectful/well-behaved than most of the other students that came in here. 

He waved hi to the lady working at the check-out desk- Barbara -and looked around the book holding maze. The library was fairly huge, especially for a regular ol' public school. It was filled, overflowing with books- and not just the ones that teachers had on their list for that year's book reports. It seemed like there were books about everything here. And not in the "oh libraries have literally every kind of book you could need" way. This school library, for some reason, had books that no one would even think of existing. Whenever Jared and Evan didn't have anything to work on, they'd wander around looking for weird books or old asmr tapes together, laughing quietly until they found those certain books that made them get shushed for apparently being too loud.

One time Evan found a book on hunting, trapping, and skinning a rabbit.

He had cried for an hour and almost had to be sent home afterwards.

Sometimes Jared would find himself flipping through a guide on wild and plant life, specifically trees, but as soon as Evan would notice and/or shuffle over to him, he'd start making snide remarks about the scientific names and what the plants looked like.

The majority of the crowd stayed in the front of the library, all chatting "quietly" and taking selfies and uploading shit to instagram. Some people drifted toward the back to take naps or whatever, and sometimes there was a couple making out in the back when the bathrooms were full. Hopefully there would be no awkward snogging anywhere near him today, and he could read in peace.

Jared traced his hand along the spines of the books as he walked to the very back, where the lighting created a look of s'mores and bohemian carpet. He grabbed a gently grabbed a book from off a shelf and finally made it to the back of the library. It was incredibly secluded back there, and it felt similar to his locker- like a place that he had to himself and no one else had ever been there. It was his, his fingers were the ones to run over the dust on the books here, he was the one that drew a dick on a page in the 1967 yearbook of their high school. It wasn't as comforting as his locker or the computer lab, but it was still a pretty cool place to relax.

Maybe he was more of the Golum of the Library, living in the dark back of the high school archive, occasionally programming Trojan Horses instead of reading a book about martians or conspiracy theories like Alana thought he did. Eh, he could see the resemblance. 

He slid down against the back of a long row of bookcases, opening the novel he had randomly snatched. He didn't know what he was doing at this point, but it was better than sitting at the front of the library and ending up in the background of some girl's selfie. He used to love being the accidental person in the background, he'd even look around for someone about to take a picture just so he could rush in and add a little extra _flair~_  and _character~_ of their picture. But now people were annoyed by anyone getting even remotely close to being a little line in their pictures, and he didn't deal with some spoiled brat's glares. 

The sound of the paper turning was oddly nice, but he payed no mind to it really. He just sat there, occasionally turning a page. At one point he started humming a song that was stuck in his head. 

Okay, he was bored.

Jared closed the book and got up, proceeding to swing it around casually in his hand as he started walking on the opposite side of the shelf. There was a laptop and ipad cart at the front of the library (another reason why everyone stayed up there), so he could always work on some programs or whatever for the time being. He was nearing the end of the aisle he was in, which would lead him to the land of the middle of the library, more brightly lit and still pretty empty, but a higher table population. A soft chatter crawled into his ears with twine peppered legs. He inwardly groaned. A couple was probably heading their way to the back so they could make out because the bathroom was probably full for some reason. It was basically the end of the day, could they really not wait for the bus or something? He did _not_ want to deal with weirdly smothered moans from twenty feet away forcing their way past his eardrums for forty-five minutes.

_You'd want to deal with it if it was you and Evan, not some random couple._

The boy sputtered at his own thought, nearly sending himself into a seizure.

That was not what he expected himself to think. And he did _not_ want to be thinking that. He sighed, thinking to himself " _tits are my shits._ " 

Still not the greatest thought in the universe, but it was better than that last one.

He took six steps forward and his heart dropped, the quiet chatter sounding like the two people ten steps away were at the end of a tunnel. It was suffocating but stranding at the same time. 

It was Evan. Of course, because his luck was at the top of the leader-board today.

Wait, _Evan_?

Jared blinked. He hadn't noticed how his cheeks were a pinch warmer and he was a second away from awkwardly standing on the inside of his feet to the outside of them and then repeating the action over and over until he figured out he was doing it. A shock of feather grasped energy spread through his body, and he was tempted to run over and blab to the Polo-obsessed boy about literally anything and then maybe walk through the library together and find stupid books like last year. A side of him wanted to storm over there and flip the table over and demand what the fuck he was doing there when he said that he wasn't feeling well and no way in hell wasn't he going to show up at school. 

Alas, he couldn't do that. Across from Evan was Zoe Murphy, which wasn't much of a surprise anymore because the two started to talk and hang out over the summer; but that didn't mean that Jared was okay with it. A quick and lemon candy melted note played in his mind, one that just mumbled and prodded out the word "jealous? Jealous?" Nah. The two were talking about something, their notebooks set in front of them and open, the writing in each of them semi-visible from the angle Jared was looking from. It dawned on him that there was no couple about to make out, it was Zoe and Evan all along. If they started making out, Jared would blow his brains out on the spot, because that was not a sight he wanted to see ever. That was like the equivalent of witnessing your grandparents bang on a table while you ate snot drizzled Frosted Flakes. 

The boy stood there awkwardly, surprised at himself for not just barging over to the table and semi-yelling at Evan. The thing that was stopping him, most likely, was that Zoe said something (Jared wasn't sure what, because at the moment he was politely pretending she didn't exist) and Evan's eyes crinkled, the faint dark circles mixing in with but it made it all look like a slurred sketch, and his soft little laugh flew into the air. Jared honestly couldn't look away, but he was standing pretty damn obviously. He darted back into the aisle and once again slid down the bookshelf, this time keeping his eyes focused on the two people at the table. 

God, he felt like a cliche anime schoolgirl- he was blushing and hiding behind things in a flustery hurricane just so he could look at someone. Next he'd be calling Evan "senpai" and getting a life-threatening nosebleed every time he walked by. He hoped that wasn't the case. 

Jared peered out, ignoring a tiny voice in the back of his head that keened out "kawaii kawaii~". He couldn't really hear what the two humans were saying but he didn't really care. As long as they were absorbed with what their conversation then they wouldn't notice him, and he could just...sit here, he guessed. He leaned out from his hiding spot, eyes choosing to focus on Evan. Jesus Christ, he went from kind-of-creeper t full on stalker in a matter of minutes. About ten minutes already passed and during that amount of time he had been staring, where no one could see him even if they look straight in his direction.

_Good job, Kleinman, and next month you'll be arrested for breaking into his house._

Another one of Evan's hushed giggles escaped from the nervous boy's lips and Jared completely forgot that he was in the library, much less the universe. As far as he could tell, he was in heaven. He clutched the book to his chest and his glasses slipped a bit down the bridge of his nose, but _god_ how could he pay attention to that when he could see his "friend" smiling a full smile.  

That note of jealousy pounded in his head, the pianist of his brain bashing down on that chord over and over again. Jared decided he hated every instrumentalist. 

His eyes strayed to the left, narrowing at the sight of Zoe Murphy.

He really didn't have anything against her, she was lovely and really nice- plus her humor could be surprisingly dark and crude, how could he not like her -but she was the one who was smoothing out Tree Boy's stutters and panicky breathes; he was smiling like that because of her.

Jared never got that smile from him, even when he was nice to him.

His heart momentarily skidded down his ribcage, ripping off some the tissue and leaving a feeling of soaked sheet music and muddy paint. 

He stayed glued to his spot though, his knuckles burned white due to the force of his grip on the book, and his eyes were locked onto the pair sitting at the table. Zoe was drawing something onto Evan's paper, and he watched curiously. Jared's sight began to blur.

No, not today, he refused. Today was a day that Evan Hansen was absent, because he didn't feel well. And because Evan Hansen was out, Jared Kleinman would feel fine all day, and he most definitely wouldn't cry or stick a flower into his shirt like a bachelor at a fancy party. His body betrayed him and he could feel that fucking tear welling up in one of his eyes, whispering angry words about the only good Murphy he had met so far. No, he was done. Not happening.

Jared sniffled and got up, putting that stupid book down on the floor. He held his head up high, and put what he hoped was a smile on his face. He would just walk past those bitches like they didn't exist. If they noticed him, he wouldn't notice them. He marched out of the aisle (not really, he kind of stumbled at first because he had been sitting on his feet for almost seventeen minutes) and walked right by them, his right hand desperately gripping the strap on his backpack. 

There were four minutes left in the period, then the bell would ring and everyone would rush to their lockers so they could get out before anyone else did. The computer lab was only a couple hallways away, and clubs were meeting today so he wouldn't get in trouble for staying after school. As soon as he made it out of the library, he bent his down, focusing on his footsteps and the sounds his shoes made on the dirty tile. His grip on the backpack strap tightened. He quickly swept his left arm over his face- to wipe away any wetness in his eyes and so he could discreetly spit out a tiny petal that had been resting under his tongue. As soon as his arm fell to his side, he walked right into someone. Great.

He looked up, an apology not even at the bottom of his throat because right now he just didn't _care_ anymore, and just looked at the person he bumped into. The person glared back.

"Are you fucking serious?" Connor spat. He pushed Jared back, but the guy just stared at him blandly. There was something wrong with him. Which was okay, because who fucking cares, but it was kind of creepy. He stood there, didn't even attempt to slide in a wicker poked comment. Connor squinted for a second, not wanting to be caught or called out for staring at the obnoxious piece of shit in front of him. There wasn't anything physical that seemed to be the matter, but mental? How could the self-acclaimed genius _not_ be mentally impaired? A red strip of puffy skin and several steam-whispered drops built up on the bottom of the latter's glasses suddenly screamed out at Connor when his eyes flicked back up to Kleinman's face.

"Wait, are you crying?" The question was simple, but he spat dimes and ink into the words, making it sound mocking. Jared laughed. It sounded a bit colder than usual, like there were more quick clicks of a metronome, but Connor had dealt with worse things than a clown trying to be intimidating. 

"Yeah. I realized that you'd be trying to get to me all year long, and failing to as usual. I laughed so hard that I got kicked out class. Now if you excuse me, asshole," Jared smiled kindly at him and brushed past, "I have more important things to do than listen to your scene-wannabe ass." He sent a salute towards the Murphy, which morphed into the middle finger. Why Murphy didn't just push him out a window right then (even though it wouldn't do much damage because they were on the first floor, but it would still be satisfying), the world would never know. 

Jared turned on his heel after his "fuck-off salute" and headed toward the computer lab faster than he wanted to, but it wasn't a sprint. It was a heated quick-walk that melted off bits of static. After checking to make sure no one was in the room, and fumbling with his "key card of wizardry to the Matrix" before nearly slamming the door open. He wasn't mad, not at all, he was just...stressed. Thoughts shot around his mind with dizzying force, all replaying what happened in the library and the cold, hard truth. 

If he weren't alone and he had Evan to gross out, he would have made a dick joke. 

_Even your dick jokes turn out better than you._

Jared shook his head and ran one of his hands over his eyes, which smushed his glasses against his forehead.

The bell rang, but he just sat at a desk, a computer on and a programming tab up. Occasionally he'd reach over and type a few commands into the thing, but he wasn't actually making an effort to complete, much less make, a full program or virus today. At some points he'd feel as if there was a sock in his throat, but he would only mentally sigh and pull out a small petal that for some reason hooked into his mouth. He glanced up at the clock, eyes now bringing a touch of exhaustion. Clubs probably weren't done (he never bothered to remember when they did end, but really who cared.) He got up and left, making a small note to himself that yes, clubs were still going at this time, which made sense because it was only 4:15. 

 

The teen put his glasses on the granite counter before slowly making his way to the couch and collapsing on it. Everything felt meh- like staples laying on a desk and white curtains. He needed something to do that wasn't homework. He kind of wanted food. But not right now.

But right now. 

He lazily reached for his phone, which resulted in him smashing around his hand on the coffee table that was maybe farther away than he expected it to be. Eventually he grabbed it, and he lazily opened the phone keypad. His eyes bored into the screen, barely even blinking. When he did blink though, he was suddenly scrolling through instagram and it was 6:30. Whatever. A brisk "bing" sounded from his phone, mentally startling him, but he didn't really show any outside reaction to it. It was a text from Evan.

 

_Stutterson:_ _Zoe said she saw you leaving the library really early and that_ _you looked upset. I don't mean to bother you but I wanted to make sure you're okay_

_Stutterson:_ _I mean_ _you don't have to tell me if you don't want to and you probably don't want to but I don't want to assume things so I'm just making sure_

_Stutterson: and I don't mean to intrude either I just wanted to be a good friend and make sure things were okay today you know but sometimes things aren't what they look like so maybe Zoe was wrong and you weren't upset_

_Stutterson: I mean some people's natural faces make them look upset so maybe she mistook your neutral face for upset?_

_Stutterson: that sounds like I'm saying that you have a resting bitch face which isn't what I'm saying at all I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you especially if you were already upset and now I'm just adding to it if you were and you don't have rbf I was just stating that some people are like that but that's insulting to them to I really shouldn't judge I'm sorry_

Jared smiled slightly, but sighed, knowing that Evan had freaked himself out.

_Kleinmeme: dude its chill fucking relax_

_Kleinmeme: everyones super judgemental ur not even close 2 them_

_Kleinmeme: but ye everything was chill i guess my personality just reflects onto my face_

_Stutterson: you're not a bitch!_

_Kleinmeme: of course not_

_Kleinmeme: i was talking about my beauty_

_Kleinmeme: im fucking beautiful inside and out_

_Stutterson: sure_

Jared laughed again. The conversation was obviously over, and he really hadn't payed attention to the tiny rants Evan had sent because Jesus he's a fast typer. His eyes scanned over the previous messages and for a moment his heart sank. 

He had lied to him. He said that Zoe Murphy saw him, when he was actually there and obviously saw Jared walk out. 

The guy had a knack for lying, but who didn't? Jared was probably the one who got him into the giant lies so...? Basically it was his fault for starting the Hanson's new habit. 

He reread one message over and over again, which sent his heart to beating against his ribcage, trying to get out so it could soar freely.

Evan considered them friends, not acquaintances or whatever Jared called them. Yeah, he'd correct him for it later, but right now he wanted to melt into the fact that they weren't really what he had forced them to call each other. 

 

They were really friends. ~~And yeah, Jared desperately wanted more than that~~ but that current status was enough for him to die without a giant complaint. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously wow the amount of times I wrote "jared" in this chapter ಠOಠ it's seriously not okay lmao  
> also wowza my son nearly cries every chapter I have to be stopped  
> but at least this chapter ended kind of happily ?? My beautiful boy deserves to be happy


	4. Awkward Chats with the (Student Council) President

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I attempt to make chapters longer and add subplots so I don't vomit out the full plot in the next two chapters and make the characters more accurate to the canon universe and hope that I will actually get this and the fifth chapter done before Christmas  
> also I end up writing the name "Jared" more times than I've ever written a vowel

Jared did  _not_  recommend school microwaved ramen cups.

Any other microwave? Sure, yeah, go right ahead. But as soon as anything goes anywhere near that wretched device, it was forever scuffed as complete and utter shit.

_I can see the resemblance in quality._

Jared sneered at the steaming, frothy liquid in his hand and dropped it into a nearby trashcan. His eyes skimmed over to a glass door at the end of the hallway, which was allowing light to pour in and meld into the tile that reached towards the wall of lockers. The sunlight reached out to no one, no shadows crossed over them and cut off the streams for quick seconds. It was just him, sitting on the floor by his locker. 

Earlier, Evan had explained that he'd be eating lunch outside, in the school's courtyard/garden. No need to hang out with Jared because there's trees to fuck! Whatever. He was missing out on the latest, dankest memes and computer fuckery from a distance.

Jared curled his knees to his chest and leaned his head against the flimsy metal. It was an overall empty day; there only seemed to be steel prodded pencil scratching against paper and wood chipper gossip or other cruelties flying out of familiar mouths. A quiet-footed feeling rested between his organs, like a tiny black hole that didn't even know what it wanted to suck up. It was just sitting there, creating a slight tug of a bone cracked void in his mood and eyes. Despite being a little ways away fom the cafeteria, the chatter seeped through the doors and echoed into Jared's ears. His eyes trailed up to the overhead lights, and the noises and screams from the cafeteria merged with it and created and distant buzzing sound in his ears. 

The lights were thin rods, which reflected dimly off the floors. They were constant reminders that every hell you were trapped in during life had these exact lights- thin strips that blended in with the ceiling and created a quaint scent of bleach and mold. They began to blur together, and the buzzing grew into more of a melody, and Jared's eyes slowly were pushed down with surges of random fatigue. A cat brushed pulse went through his body in tiny jolts, an attempt to keep him awake because he had a "responsibility", but they eventually faded and sleep slowly took a strange claw to his mental shoulder.

"Are you okay?" A tea dripped voice suddenly sliced through the boy's mind and he jolted awake. Alana was standing in front of him, peering down in slight concern.

"Of course I am." He said with a quickly wrapped on smile. "And shouldn't you be in a student council meeting right now?" Alana shrugged, her hands gripped delicately to the straps of her backpack.

"We've got all our plans for the coming-up December Dance finalized, so we don't need to work on anything for the next week. I figured I'd take the time that I have for today and use it for something useful, like tutoring." Jared quickly put his hand up to stop her.

"You finally have free time, to relax and step back from this 'student council' bullshit and you're going to use it dealing with drugged up teens who don't even know what te times five is?"

"That's really offensive, those who are struggling with academic or otherwise subjects aren't stupid or 'druggies', they-" Again, Jared quickly shooshed her.

"For once, sit down with your friends and eat lunch, scroll through Tumblr or some shit." The boy on the floor flashed a quick grin before he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and busied himself with something.

Alana just stood there, a honey dripped hook dragging down her thoughts. Her eyes scanned over the hallway and she tried to catch her interest on any of the posters that were taped onto the walls, but nothing really stuck in her mind. There was nothing to do. She glanced down at Jared, who still was giving his phone all of his attention and she nearly scoffed, but ended up pushing up her glasses and loosening the grip on her backpack.

"May I sit with you for lunch?" Her voice was almost uneven. Jared glanced up at her, a blueberry surprise in his eyes. Alana started to shuffle slightly, but Jared scooted to the side and flashed a wide grin that held a pumpkin knotted welcome. She stared for barely a moment before she placed her things carefully down and sat next to him, legs laid out in front of her, her feet pointed to the ceiling, making the shoelaces fall more limp than December noodles. A silence crafted from red rope overcame the hallway and the two. It wrapped around them for too long and she shifted so she could face him a bit. 

"So what do with your time now?" She asked. Jared scoffed.

"I have relax, have fun." He shrugged. "Have you ever heard of that before? Fun? Have you ever experienced it? Fun. F-U-N." He jabbed at her and enunciated the word. She slapped away his hand.

"Of course I've heard of it and experienced it, I'm human." Jared raised a brow.

"I'm pretty sure sitting in the student version of PTA meetings everyday and constantly working on extra credit isn't fun." Alana gave him a soft glare in warning. She worked so hard because she knew that if she didn't then she wouldn't have a chance of making it far, being successful. She couldn't lead a life where she was  _just short_ of everything,  _barely_ able to pay that bill. She had to work so she could guarantee that'd she have that.

"Well, I refuse to sit by and see you suffer in a world of zero entertainment. Or at least a pinch of relaxation." Jared donned a dramatic tone, a slight sigh breezing past his lips. "You're but a poor mortal, caught in a world of nonstop work, forever tormented by stress. Let me help you, Alana Beck, explore and know the world of relief and joy. I hold the map to it, but will you read it?" Jared got up on his right knee and held a hand to Alana, a playful smile on his lips. She giggled- a pillow curved sound that could make anyone smile.

She put her hand in his, and a smirk broke smoothly onto her face.

"What shall you teach me today, oh great lord of fun?" Jared smirked, and words started slipping out of his mouth without any thought. His mind had switched to some form of "auto-pilot", and his eyes started drifting to the glass door. A shot of anxiety latched onto his back with poison curved hands and the thoughts in the back of his mind went into a hyper-drive with a hot flash of a digital clock red.

Connor Murphy was making his way to the door, about to open the door, about to go through the door and into the courtyard. 

Evan was in the courtyard.

Jared knew Evan. Yeah, he acted like he wouldn't care if he died, but  _oh, he cared_. And he knew that Evan wouldn't be able to handle someone like Connor Murphy. The poor kid would have a panic attack at just the thought of someone  _considering_ going into the courtyard. 

If he was a good person, he would've excused himself from the conversation with Alana and bolted outside before Connor could even go near the door and sit next to Evan and just talk to him. The sight of Jared would make any thought of going  _near_  Evan immediately dissipate with lamp-shade whisks of steam from Connor's mind. Evan would be okay, and Jared's lunch period would go from okay, to great.  

But he wasn't a good person. So he turned his head away from the sunlight spilled part of the hall and focused back to Alana, who was watching some video involving a current meme (he figured he gave her his phone while on auto-pilot), and ignored the almost deafening sound of the door clicking closed.

 _He'll be okay_ , he told himself.

_Yeah, and you donated a thousand dollars to cancer research and perform at nursing homes on weekends just to see the smiles on all the wrinkly faces made up of crumpling memories._

He shook his head lightly and mumbled something that made Alana laugh. 

The rest of lunch went by fine, besides the peppermint stung worry that was flicking through his brain.

 

The next day, Alana sat with him again. 

Evan didn't talk to him about where he was going for lunch.

Which was fine, because Jared's not his mom, but it peaked a yarn twiddled finger of worry anyway. He flashed a smile at Alana. She smiled back and turned to him, hands in front of her like she was about to give a sales pitch.

“So, Student Council-“ Jared groaned dramatically and threw his head against the locker, which resulted in a playful glare from the girl beside him, “Student Council made a video to promote the December Dance that’s in a few weeks, but no one really knows how to edit it. So…”

“So you need me to edit it for you political wannabes.” Jared smirked. “Yeah, I got you. Just follow me.” He stretched before getting up from the tiled floor, using the lockers for support. He held out a hand for Alana and bowed theatrically, but she just lightly smacked his hand and got up by herself.

“Oh ho ho ho, getting feisty, are we, Ms. Beck?” His tone was teasing, and a shit eating grin was on his face. But what else was new? The girl stayed quiet and grabbed her things, which he thought was unnecessary because how long could it take to edit a shitty video? All the shit he needed was in his locker anyway, so he was good in case the time decided to launch off with quick feathered blinks. He raised his foot and began to glide ahead of the student council president. Alana sighed.

"Heelys are such a bad idea. Why do you even have those?" Jared gasped, and turned to her, now gliding backwards.

"They're wonderful! Heelys are God in the form of a shoe! How dare you insult the omnipotent being that created the universe that we're living in. You  _fool_." The girl just rolled her eyes. 

They arrived at the doors to the computer lab in less than three minutes. Jared almost slammed into the wall because he forgot how to stop. When he turned to face his accompaniment after the almost-crash, she only gave him a green tea look that read “I told you so". He just discreetly flipped her off before whipping out his keycard.

"Now this, Madame President, is the master of all keys. It can open anything. The most complicated editing program, the computer cart,  _your mind,_ " He gestured whimsically to Alana, "but most importantly, this door." He said plainly, and swiped the key card through a plastic box-looking thing on the side of the right door. It beeped and a little clear plastic dot on the same box turned green, and Jared pushed open the doors. Alana was the first to enter the room. She stepped forward with a soft-felt curiosity while her eyes scanned the room and fingers clutched loosely near her chest. 

"Pretty fucking cool, right?" Her acquaintance's voice was a sudden knife of pride and a lace of wonder that snapped her back into reality. She smiled at him. Jared strutted over to a Macbook and pulled out two chairs, an over-the-top-flourish an unwanted but amusing tie in with the action. Alana sat down politely, ankles crossed and her bag neatly set beside her; Jared turned the chair around, turned the computer on, and held his hand out towards Alana for the flashdrive in one, wind snapped motion. She stared for a few seconds before gingerly placing it in his hand, and he plugged it into the computer. 

 

He suspected that she, and the entire student council, actually, would prefer to have simple edits. Just a few cuts here and there, nothing that would make the video stand out or make it any more embarrassing and cringey than it was as its original product. So he remained silent and brought his fingers down upon the keyboard and computer mouse.

 

Grueling minutes of styrofoam sewn silence clasped around the room in mere seconds of their work (more of Jared, computer hacker extraordinaire). Only two minutes into the editing process and Alana had pulled out her phone and murmured something about having to check for updates on chess club while bringing her arms closer to her body. It made her look smaller than she really was. Jared had just hummed curtly in response and continued. It was obvious she was just going to read through news articles and take Buzzfeed quizzes. 

The boy took a pause in his editing and fished his earbuds out from his jeans pocket. He wanted to see how much the flinch-inducing "add/infomercial" was, and if he needed to fix or blend any of the audio. The video played out on the screen in front of his eyes, finally in one sequence, rather than the choppy frames without any sounds, besides the repetitive clicking of the mouse. There were mostly clips from last year's December Dance, with the voice of some cheerleader thinking she can hold the position of treasury narrating and explaining everything. In the background there were girls in short-but-poofy dresses, which he didn't know how got into the video because it had to be "school appropriate, but he just rolled his eyes and listened to the voice explaining everything. He checked the time bar at the bottom of the video-four minutes. He almost slammed his straight through the desk. Really, what was so hard to advertise a dance to teens? 

He skipped to about three and a half minutes in and continued on with the stupid thing. He glanced over at Alana quickly and flashed back to the video, when his heart kicked up fifty notches.

It really shouldn't had been such a big deal.

It was a normal thing, it was everywhere. 

He didn't know  _why_  he was so surprised by it.

Because it shouldn't be a big deal.

In the background of the video, that specific shot- three minutes and twenty eight seconds in -there was a gay couple dancing together in the left corner. 

Which was fine, there was  _nothing_  wrong with it.

In fact, it was  _great_. 

Excitement had shot through Jared's body and he had nearly slammed his finger onto the space bar to pause the video, just so he could process it.

A minute passed, and his excitement died down, a contentment nestled around his brain with toast crumbs circled around as well. He meant to un-pause it, but his eyes flitted over to the couple once more and a single thought sent a bright blush sweeping across his pale face. He clenched his fists, a hope that that would disintegrate the thought, but his imagination had gotten a sample and it was creating millions more, probably.

He just had to un-pause the goddamn video, then his stupid internal debate would be over and gone forever. 

But the thought of Evan holding him like that, dressed up only for each other, swaying to the soft music, Evan having to bend over just so their foreheads could touch, the other students fading away from their minds so it's just them and the berry-toned lights..

A hot paper-slashed blush took over his face, it even reached over his ears, and he tried to hide his face in his hands.  _God_ , he should  _not_  be having those thoughts. The familiar itch slowly hooked onto his throat, and he almost rolled his eyes. Of course he had to go and do this to himself. 

_You're not even friends with Evan, what makes you think you can go and imagine shit like that? Fucking creep._

The feeling of needles spread over his throat became almost violent at that. Okay, so those facts did  _not_ help. 

A sudden, rough cough burst from his lips and he curled in on himself. It felt as if something had stripped off the skin in his throat, which sadly was now an all-too familiar feeling. He was fine though, he could cover it up and that one iron poked cough. He closed his eyes and sat up straight, attempting to clear his mind. He inhaled deeply, but a paper thing, acid-flavored pillow laced over his airways, and he choked. Tears sprung to his eyes and he slammed his hand down on the desk. Alana's head whipped up.

"Oh god! Are you okay?" Jared just waved a hand at her, an attempt to get her away from him. But  _god_  he couldn't breathe. He grasped at his throat and coughed harshly, several times, and the slightly panicked yelps from Alana weren't helping. Suddenly, she smacked her hand against his back and the petal in his throat tumbled up and out of his throat, into his hand, along with a blotch of blood. 

_Great._

"What happened? Are you sick? You should go to the nurse if you're coughing like that." She spoke quickly, but with more of a typewriter smitten tone than a cotton swathed concern. Jared attempted to discreetly wipe away the blood in his hand on the top of his jeans where his shirt covered up, and dropped the petal to the floor before he turned to face her.

"Relax," hopefully she wouldn't notice the slightly red stained petal that now rested by the leg of his chair. "I just got a super dry throat randomly. Guess I got too sucked in by the blandness of your infomercial to remember how to make saliva. Alana wrinkled her nose, which made her glasses inch closer to her face, but the hint of a cat clawed smile was in her tea splattered eyes. "Listen, I'll finish this dumbass thing in my study hall later. The periods almost over and I shouldn't hold you off from your great schedule of kissing up and fancy classes." Alana gaped and held a hand to her chest.

"I do not kiss up!" Jared cackled, involuntarily curling in on himself in the process. He winced inwardly, but covered it up- the burning in his throat was sadly an all too recognizable and familiar after-effect of vomiting up flowers. He was fine though.

Alana playfully pushed his shoulder, a tiny giggle escaping her lips. She quickly retracted her arm though, and muttered a soft "sorry". Jared shrugged it off and she left, which left him alone with a blueberry nipped feeling that crept over the corners of the room. He sighed and grabbed the flashdrive from the computer when his eyes caught onto the blood-speckled white petal that was laying on the floor next to his chair. He picked it up and stared down at it with a shadowed disgust. 

"God, what a freak." He crumbled the petal up and dropped it in the garbage bin, and left the computer lab with storm of sea water and a diminished chord.

 

Evan was waiting at Jared's locker when he got there. Last year, they had developed a deal that they would walk to the bus together, just in case either of their parents would be there to drive them home. It was a win-win situation- Evan would feel less anxious, and Jared would get kudos because he was being nice. Evan waved hesitantly as he rolled on his Heelys over towards him. They ended up with a silence between them when Jared started fiddling with his lock. 

"H-how was your, uh, your day?" Evan's voice caused a soft sort of snap through his brain, and he blinked before a scowl took over his face.

"Yeah, yeah, it was fine. You should know this by know. And I bet that your day included nearly crying over forty-seven times, isn't that right?" He slammed his locker closed rather harshly and turned to look to at his acquaintance. He really didn't mean that. Evan's face contorted into a look of confusion, hurt and then shame, and it took all of Jared's will power to not slam his own head into the lockers. However, he just raised his eyebrows in a nonchalant look of 'yeah, called it', and said:

"Let's just go to the bus already." The taller boy trailed along behind him, sweaty hands grabbing the bottom of his shirt with a flame tickled intensity. It was silent, besides the shouting and otherwise loud chatter from the ocean of teenagers around them, but Evan's own voice slipped past his lips with a deer plucked tone.

"I...I actually did have a good day." From what Evan could see, Jared had no reaction to what he said. He probably didn't even hear what he said. Which was fine, it didn't matter what he said and if it was heard; Jared would've snapped out vent cut comments that would sting with a lemon clock familiarity. He clenched his shirt harder, heat flushing across his face in embarrassment.

A pride had twisted around Jared's rib cage, though, and a soft smile had inched onto his face. The nature geek had a good day, and even though that might be a lie, Jared sometimes liked to pretend that one of them was capable of a good day.

 

By some miracle, the bus wasn't as full as it could be, so Jared was able to select from an array of similar, grimy seats in the back. He shoved himself into the seat and pushed his backpack onto the crumb sprinkled floor and a slight air of relaxation settled onto his soldiers. The shifting of fabric and awkward steps were suddenly present, and Jared whipped his head around to see Evan trying to take off his backpack and sit next to him. He immediately sprang to his feet and grabbed Evan's backpack.

"Woah, woah,  _woah_. What the fuck are you doing?" The taller boy blinked at him, his mouth sealed tight and hands gripped tightly to his backpack. "Listen, Evan, we've been over this. You don't sit next to me. We sit by ourselves,  _near_ each other. Not next to each other, unless the bus is absolutely full and there's no empty seats. Just..." He swiftly pointed to a seat diagonal of his, "sit over there, in that one." Evan nodded, his eyes focused on the floor as he shuffled over to the specific seat and proceeded to stare out the window with an unspoken broom sweep of sadness. Jared shook the feeling off and sprawled his legs across the seat.

His eyes glanced up to the boy who was focused on the "scenery" (more of suburban brainwash, really) and his heart almost snapped off a rib. Why was he even doing this? 

_Because you're a privileged freak. If people bother getting close to you then they'll end up dealing with the real you._

The bus lurched, and he tore his eyes away from Evan, instead focusing on a conspiracy video. 

 

Tree Boy had gotten off two stops ago, and Jared had turned his music up louder. The bus lurched to a stop, and he dragged his backpack off the ground and clambered off the bus. A twine snowflake breeze tousled his hair and nipped at his skin, which turned it a light pink. He attempted to nuzzle deeper into his light jacket, which wasn't even doing shit for him at the moment. There were leaves scattered across the ground, most of them a grey and fazed out brown color that looked like television static. Some leaves still clung to the branches of trees, but they weren't alive at all. Clouds were scarce, the sky a mirror smudged grey with cotton bled oranges leaking at the bottom of the skyline. Jared wasn't sure if he appreciated or was annoyed by the fast-approaching evenings that came with December. 

He trotted up the driveway and fumbled with the keys, his fingers too cold to hold objects that well. Eventually the door opened with a quiet creak that one would link with horror movies, but it was just because the door was fairly new and wasn't adjusted to moving. He stepped inside and set his bag down, shucking off his shoes. He glanced around at the pristine, Home Decor Magazine house. The lights were off and there wasn't any noise, except for the refrigerator making ice. It was thick, the silence, and he felt like he was in a movie. A teenage 'Home Alone'. He padded through some of the rooms before he stopped in the kitchen and sat at the counter.

Alone. 

There weren't any notes sitting at the kitchen table saying " _Your father and I are on another business trip, sorry honey! We'll be back on Sunday, two weeks from now. Miss you xoxox_ ". They would just leave, and he'd deal with it for a couple of weeks and suddenly they'd be back. 

Jared smiled to himself, but it twitched with a steel bit dream. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms. A crystal lined void gnawed at his intestines, but he ignored it and focused on the sounds of the wind pushing at the house and the complete and utter silence that overtook the darkening house.

At least the heat was on; he wouldn't have to deal with numb fingers that would struggle to create the taps on a keyboard when would he finally finish editing the video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay on sept. 22nd I was surprised with tickets to go see DEH (and I had originally thought I was going to go see Hello Dolly) and hhhhh I have still not recovered  
> basically all of the original cast was on that night, except for the guy that originally plays Larry Murphy (whoops I forgot his name oh no) but his understudy, Asa, is absolutely amazing (SO ARE THE REST OF THE UNDERSTUDIES I LOVE THEM) he and Ben harmonized so beautifully I fucking cried over that  
> Also during "Sincerely Me" when Connor and Evan were singing "miss you dearly~" Jared's face just fell and he looked so upset but it lasted like four seconds before he snapped on this happy face I was ready to die  
> and in the reprise instead of his signature cackle (which is a fucking blessing to hear in real life) he just giggled and I realized that I had ascended into heaven  
> In Act Two, Jared and Evan were in school talking and Zoe came up and fucking tree boy and her kissed and OOF Jared started fidgeting and he wouldn't look at them and he just got out of there so fast  
> IN "GOOD FOR YOU" HE WAS ACTUALLY CRYING THE WHOLE TIME FROM THE POINT WHEN EVAN YELLED AT HIM TO WHEN HE WALKED OFFSTAGE AFTER THAT GODDAMN SONG I AM STILL DAMAGED  
> Just,,,everything was beautiful and there's so much more that happened but hhhh I don't want to brag I'm sorry


	5. December Dance (Not As Festive As You'd Think)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a super super late chapter, focused on nothing but the December themed dance in their school when this is published in the middle of January  
> you know what, it's fanfiction I could make it spring for all I care (or you can just pretend that they're having a winter dance and the date doesn't exist and it's all good yayyy)
> 
> also shut up and take my lowkey, not-subtle-at-all, group chat moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof watch out there's use of bad homophobic words and panicky shamicky in this chapter hide your kids  
> also I lIVE for a strong friendship between Alana and Jared so get ready for a fuckton of that here and every single chapter from now on

Jared glanced around at the poster plastered walls of the hallway. They covered more than half of the building, and they ended up looking more like mind numbing purple snowflakes of annoyance than a friendly school advertisement for excused hook-ups. Other students just walked around, their conversations floating up and bundling with all the other chatter. From what he could hear, none of it seemed to be about the dance. He shrugged, because honestly, it wasn't his fault that the student council's shitty video couldn't capture the hopeless minds of the schools' attention. His feet suddenly had no idea how to move, which was probably because a wild Evan Hansen was in his line of sight, waiting at Jared's locker. 

"Hey, Jared." The taller boy mumbled. Jared pretended to not notice, but sent a nonchalant look towards him. A cold sweat flavored silence was bestowed upon them, which made Jared want to launch himself out the window that was twenty feet away. Finally, and thankfully, Evan spoke up again,

"Have you s-seen the posters for the, uh, the December dance?" Jared scoffed.

"How could I not? In fact, basically the only thing I can see is the posters." A shaky smile forged itself onto Evan's face. 

"A-are you gonna go?" His question was a bit quiet and a small laugh blew out from his lips afterwards. Jared tried not to smile at the strawberry frosted sound. 

"I don't know. I'm still stuck with getting  _loads_ of texts and questions from all these girls- asking if I'll go with them. I still have to decide. Do you know what that's like, Evan?" His words curved to a harsh tone at the end of his sentence, and they caused Evan to blink a couple times and fiddle with the end of his shirt before he tried to answer. Jared gently grabbed the tall boy's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "It's hard Evan. It's awful. So many girls are trying to get into my pants and I just don't have the time to say no or yes or whatever. It's dreadful. Of course you'll never understand what it's like, will you? I mean, look at you. But maybe you'll get little miss Zoe Murphy, or someone better, to notice you for once if you stick with me. You never know. It  _is_  almost Hanukkah, miracles can happen." A small flash of pain came across Evan's face as his acquaintance spoke, but he just nodded to himself in silent agreement. 

Jared, however, was about to thrust his head into a wood chipper.

_Good job, buddy! Such a great way to say "hey, please spend more time with me I actually care about your well-being and existence". If he wasn't so quiet he would've punched you by now, which is what you deserve._

_No, I should've said something like that. No matter how mean, it'll pay off. It'll keep him away from me and in the end neither of us will suffer. Remember, you're not close; keep it that way._

The bell rang before either of the boys could find the right moment to jump out the window, and Evan scampered off while Jared strolled slowly up the stairs to his class.

As the teacher droned, a quick flash of a thought brought a harsh cough past Jared's lips and a parting gift of shame when seemingly everyone looked at him with sea dipped scowls. His eyes darted to the clock above the whiteboard, and his eyebrows raised at the sight.

It was going to be a long day, and he already wanted to take a nap. 

 

Alana was the burst of energy he really did  _not_  need; but he gave her smirk when she began talking. They walked around for the most of the lunch period, the girl's voice becoming more of dandelion bought static to him. He only nodded a bit whenever he noticed that she was looking at him, or the static that was humming in his brain turned up into the form of a question mark. They paused at a wall, Alana's sunlight forest eyes caught on a poster for the dance, and Jared sighed. She turned and looked at him, a slight tea kettle offence in her expression.

"Is the poster bad, or something?" She asked. He shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Nah, I'm just not into the whole dance thing." He paused, and took the moment to exaggeratedly examine his cuticles. "Plus I really can't bother to choose a girl to go with; there's too many all vying for my attention."  Alana raised her brow that held a threatening "really?" to it. He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the weirdly blended purple and dark blue colored poster in front of them. 

"Well," her neon burst voice snagged his partial attention, "I'm going." She sounded confident, and when Jared looked over at her, her eyes were closed in a satisfactory expression, and her back was seemingly more straight. It was weird to be surrounded by a sudden, and very real, confident air. It wrapped around his throat and snagged his legs, but the feeling never leaked into his own. He felt a bit panicked, wary; he didn't know how to respond to it. A huff of air escaped him. Good enough. His thoughts began to slow, and he regained control over himself. Suddenly Alana turned to him, hands raised a bit defensively,

"I mean, either way I have to go. I have to write a report on it for student council. I don't really have a choice, but I want to anyway." Jared shot her a glance.

"Are you kidding me?  _Another_  thing for student council?" She retreated in on herself slightly, "I mean, I know that you're the president of it or whatever, but geez. They need to give you a fucking break for once." He smiled at her; the latter's eyes lit up with a steamed honey. "Just go for yourself, you can do the report later, or the next morning. I mean, the dance  _is_  this Friday, so you could totally just do it the day after instead of standing in the back of the gym and writing all night. Go have fun, like I taught you." 

Alana's face was made up of a big smile, a beacon of excitement that was a little bit contaminating. She bounced on the balls of her feet and her hands flailed for a second before they were bunch into fists. She took a deep breath, the pine needle smile still stretched to her cheeks, and then opened her eyes, now donned with a more composed air.

"You have to come too, now." Jared's eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?" She smiled sweetly.

"You have to come with me! C'mon, it'll be fun." He smirked and sent his acquaintance a flirty look. What he said was joke, but a harsh scratch trickled up the walls of his throat as he spoke. 

"Are you, Alana Beck, Madame President, asking me out? To the December Dance?" The girl in question sputtered and wrinkled her nose.

"God, _no._  I just want a friend to join me. Plus, I'm not," She trailed off, but Jared's mind had blocked off all sound. He was considered a friend; for now, at least. Yeah, the two of them probably weren't friends, because seriously, that girl  _never_  called anyone her friend. It had to have subconsciously slipped from her mouth, which was understandable, Evan did it too. 

But Evan was...well, Evan, and they had to stay as unconnected as possible. Alana was a different person, who, if she wanted to (and who wouldn't), would drop him immediately once she witnessed something about him she didn't like. Which was fine with him; less connections made living a bit easier. If it weren't for emotions he would be set for an easy life.

_No connections, end this so no one gets hurt. You can't let anyone see what a freak you are._

Okay, so there really was no difference in how he should treat Alana than he does Evan; he couldn't risk anything. But this just felt gratifying, nice even. When the word slipped from her lips he almost let a smile that would've rivaled the one she wore not five minutes ago overtake his features. 

It was a nice thing to hear.

But that was the only time he would let the word to effect him positively. Anyone who said it about him didn't mean it, and that was that. So he didn't say anything about it, but if it happened again he would correct her. 

A yank on his sleeve struck through his loop of the word, and his mind sent a plastic scissored alert to his senses. 

"Please go to the dance with me." She pleaded. The boy in front of her stared at her for a moment, fake contemplation in his eyes.

"Fine." A quick squeal of happiness came from Alana (which was quickly muted by her clamping her mouth shut and clearing her throat).  

"Great," She said, "I'll see you then. Dress fancy! It is a formal dance."

Jared glanced at the poster as she walked away. It didn't even say it was a formal dance.

 

When the door to the Kleinman house opened, late afternoon light flooded in and Jared was once more greeted by emptiness and silence. The floor was a soft bitten cold that seemed to be "twinning" with the blue flavored granite countertops in the kitchen. His backpack slumped against the white painted banister that was chipped near the floor. Socked feet hit the stairs as the lone resident trudged up to his room. 

He opened his closet door with a sluggish pull and glanced around. He now had to find a suit, apparently, and make sure it still fit. It probably did, because he hadn't grown ever since he turned fifteen, but doubt was a heavy topic in his mind. The hangers clinked together each time Jared moved, and it had begun to prod at his nerves. Near the back of his closet, though, was exactly what he was looking for. He pulled it out and gave it a once-over before putting it back, this time in a spot where he could see it clearly. The boy then collapsed at his desk and began his work. What more could he do? Wait for his mom to come up and hand him a plate of snack he didn't need and admire the new-found tux? Impossible.

 

Friday approached much faster than Jared would had liked to have, but no one could hold back a calendar, so there it was. Over the previous days, there were sudden outbursts of people being dramatically asked to the dance, and each time some Brad turned around in the middle of algebra to (loudly) profess his love to Cindy, Jared had to use all of his strength to not throw the two hundred pound textbook at them before he vomited a gallon of mystery flowers in front of everyone. 

"I swear to  _god_  if this happens at the dance I'm going to drink weed killer." He murmured to himself. Thankfully lunch had arrived and he was slumped against his lockers once more, waiting for Madame President to show up. The hallway was met with a grey scarf wrapped feeling, and weak sunlight filtered in while a wind battered at the walls of the building. Once couples began getting together, a whole rampage of throat tearing had begun for Jared. So yes, the December festivities were going great. 

 

A not-too-familiar ding from his phone dragged his attention away from worthless preening. It was the text tone Jared set for numbers he usually didn't recognize or really talk to. He halfheartedly picked the device up and glanced at it, and his subconscious did the work of piecing the way of writing, the timing, and the context together to figure out that it was Alana, and not some random stranger that he could toy with for a few minutes. He quickly made a contact for her before responding.

_ Kleinmeme: gurl howd u get my # ? _

_Madame President: I asked Evan Hansen. I figured he'd have your number since you two are seen together so often._

_ Kleinmeme: dont believe that _

After it was sent, Jared mentally slammed his head against the mirror.

_Madame President: Okay..._

_Madame President: Anyway, are we meeting at the school, or is one of us going to pick the other up?_

_ Kleinmeme: fuck it ill drive us whats ur address _

He made another rushed glance in the mirror, shoved his glasses on, and grabbed the keys to the second car. Yeah, it still didn't have any insurance, but that was Evan's purpose in the family's point of view. A message from the acquaintance that contained directions appeared on his screen, and he was off. 

Alana lived in a rather nice neighborhood, from the looks of it. There was a sun dribbled feeling to it with splashes of honey mixed tea that spread over the variety of different houses. It was calming. He pulled up at her house, double checking the address just to make sure. It was a pristine, white paneled house, with bricks near the bottom. The front door had a glass cover door in front of it, to protect the dark oak wood door that was the entryway to the house. It glowed with a mint leaf painted euphoria. It was a little weird that he was driving her, since her house was so close to the school, but he  _did_  offer. The glass door opened with a tiny squeak, which sent a slick fishing hook into Jared's ear and dragged his attention to the entrance. Alana stepped outside, waved into the house with a bright smile, and almost bounced to the car, a small tan purse bumping her hip as she moved. She was wearing a knee length, soft mahogany dress that brought up the thought of syrup dipped strawberries. It had a loose collar and she had placed a necklace over it. She carried a notepad that was a dark blue, which somehow added a nice contrast to her outfit. Jared attempted to jokingly wolf-whistle at her, but he ended up sputtering. Alana popped into the passenger seat and smiled at him.

"Are you ready to go?" Jared raised his eyebrows at her, a tiny smirk beginning to clutch at the corner of his mouth.

"Ready? Look at me- I'm dressed to the nines and escorting a lovely lady," he paused, and his face fell. "Ready to face all the girls I turned down though? Absolutely not."

 

There were far more people than Jared expected to be there. He bit his lip to stop himself from curling in on himself. Alana, meanwhile, was ecstatic, probably because it proved that the lame-ass posters really had worked. Miraculously, there were some parking spots still open, and he quickly pulled in to one that wasn't scattered with teenage litter (from what he could see). He stepped out and strutted to the other side to hold the door open for his companion, but found that she had already gotten out of the car and was scribbling into her notebook. She glanced up at him and put the notebook into the purse. 

"Alright, let's fuckin' party." Jared said, a nonchalant and relaxed tone lacing his voice. Alana gave him a look for the language, but she linked arms with him and they made their way to the building. He didn't know that they had to pay for tickets (again, not on the goddamn poster), but Alana paid for both of their tickets. A pine needle twinged thought harshly poked his brain as she did so, and guilt crashed onto his shoulders and snapped his back. His vocal chords were wrapped with a thick coat of dread, so he couldn't express how he hated that she had to waste her money on him. The pine needle multiplied and stabbed down his nerves, but he stayed stuck to the ground while she handed over her cash. The thrust of the paper ticket into his stiff hand cut the tiny green spines from his body and he numbly followed after her. The doors to the gymnasium did nothing to seal the music and yelling of students. His hand slowly crawled up his chest to where his backpack strap would be, and ended up grasping nothing. He opted for clenching his fists instead. If anyone noticed, he would just say that he's impersonating Arthur. Alana charged right in, and the light of the hallway they were in seeped into the dark and flashing room of the gym. He stepped forward and was quickly dragged into the party.

It really wasn't bad, at all, he just didn't know what to do. He couldn't move around much, everywhere was just a wall of people, who, just to mention, were all moving so even if he tried to go near them, he'd get hit and he did  _not_  want to have a bloody nose just by trying to get a drink. A cinnamon twisted hand- Alana, he somehow could sense that it was her just by the eagerness -grasped at his wrist and dragged him to somewhere on the dance floor. She smiled at him, it wasn't as wide as her usual smiles, it was a lemon scented, kitten swiped beam of excitement and adrenaline.

"What are you doing?" Jared asked with a joking tone. Despite the smile that began to play on his lips, a harsh feeling of ice and cement pooled onto his back and shoulders, and he felt like sprinting to an empty corner of the gym and ripping out his eardrums so the music and yells couldn't stab into his head anymore. She grabbed his other hand and started to bounce on her heels.

"We're dancing! Isn't that what we're supposed to do at a dance?" She spun around, which caused her dress to twirl with her. Jared slowly smiled and started to bob his head along with her movements. The song that was on quickly changed, and suddenly Alana had Jared's arms in a death grip while she jumped up and down. 

"This is my favorite song!" She squealed. Her company snorted.

""Up Town Funk'? Are you kidding me? You're so cliche." She smiled anyway, and released him. Apple bitten energy vibrated off of her, and when she started bopping along again, it seemed much wilder. Jared rolled his eyes and watched her, a playful criticizing look washed on his face. She danced by herself for a minute, before Jared took his hands out of his pockets and stepped up to her. He somehow grabbed one of her flailing hands and started to dance with her. She laughed loudly, something that sounded like sparks from a firework and a sunlit apartment, and spun him around. Despite that they were surrounded by maybe a hundred sweaty, rude students, and the music was a poppy mistake, it felt like something from a Disney movie. The spin was intended to be a 360, but before he could complete it, though, his polished shoes squeaked loudly on the gym floor, and a twist of grapefruit embarrassment swept over his face. The sound looped in his eardrums, and his arm fell coldly from Alana's grip where it hung by his side. The music had suddenly became muted as the teen's thoughts began to pound in a tiny, harsh panic. A held-in breath escaped from his lungs, and all the sound in the building rushed back to him. His eyes overcame the cement grip on his feet and the somehow still polished floor, and were dragged up by nerves. 

Of  _course_  the crowd had to basically part at that moment.

Maybe they didn't and Jared just had bad luck with timing. And/or he could just randomly locate the people he hated with spot-on precision. 

The self-pronounced Bad Timing Kleinman was frozen to the ground once more, slight fear in the back of his eyes. On the inside, however, Jared had thrown a chair and punched about twenty mental windows. It was so cliche, but also horrifying, that it made him sick. 

To add to it, he couldn't stop fucking staring. And when he finally registered that Evan Hansen was actually about twenty feet away from him at a high school dance, confusion spread its webs over his brain.

Evan Hansen was a kid that if you talked to him randomly in the hallway he would end up with a sentence shooting out of his mouth that NASCAR drivers would be jealous of. Then later on he would breakdown about it in the bathroom that no one went in, even the stoners avoided it. 

The question faded from his mind and his vision finally registered the two other people beside Evan. Connor and Zoe Murphy-  of course. A scowl absentmindedly curled onto his face at the sight of them around Evan. Again, Zoe wasn't so bad, in fact she was probably one of the sweetest people in the universe, but Evan's constant sweat and babbling about her for a year made a hatred swirl across his brain at the sound of her name. Luckily, they weren't doing much, and a miracle seemed to have finally graced that slow burn to a horrible night because Connor Murphy, the edgelord himself, wasn't talking to Evan or Zoe, and was just awkwardly standing there and occasionally sending a glare to his younger sister. But then Evan turned his head slightly and opened is mouth, and Jared could tell that a million words were flying out in a poor attempt to make conversation to the left-out Murphy, and the miracle was wiped from the pages.

Jared wanted to push through the crowd until he swept Connor to the side and was in front of Evan, and then they could talk and hang out and do something other than just stand awkwardly in a sweat-filled gym of constantly moving (and twerking, which was weird because didn't it finally die? Apparently not in his school) people. They could be friends, for once. Just for the night. 

A sad "thwump" hit his rib cage and a wave of rain sprinkled wrapping paper came over his mind. 

_Evan is having fun. Do you really want to spoil that? And really? 'Actually be friends'? That's impossible and you know it. If you went over there, the moment Evan noticed you his entire night would be ruined. If you still for some reason care about him, leave him the hell alone. He doesn't want to be near you. Ever._

His shoulders tensed and he lowered his eyes before finally he turned back around, his shoes not making any sound against the waxed floor. A sly smile was forced onto his face and a snarky comment flew into his mind, in case Alana said anything to him. 

The area that she had cleared for herself was empty of her, and instead filled with strangers that throbbed to the beat of some incoherent song. His eyes darted around the area that they had been in together, but she wasn't even to the side of the area they had "claimed" together. A blanket of pine needles, softer now, as if dipped in glue spat cotton, seeped over his shoulders. His fingers twitched up his side again to grasp at the still-not-there backpack strap, and his breath caught in his throat. Alana was nowhere to be found. He backed up in an attempt to find the wall, but he bumped into someone, which led to an ice smacked scissor blade slicing through his nerves, and he bolted. He escaped from the crowd and flattened himself against the wall. His eyes closed like an electronic gate to a castle, quickly and with slight panic, and he slowed down his breath.

_You have a handle on this. Besides, you don't need Alana. You two were just using each other to get here. You'll find each other by the end of tonight and that'll be that. Done and done. That's what it was all for. You were just a ride._

His lighting kissed eyes opened again, and a cool air flooded his body before he began to walk.

The flood of bodies that took up the gym led Jared to hide by the food table. At first it seemed like a stupid place to stay at until Alana found him, but it was observed that nobody pays attention to anything but the food in front of them for the taking. So he was safe. He leaned against the wall, his head against the cold tile as well, and let a feeling of jelly fish skin and time brushed snaps spread throughout his body. 

A bump against the table made the feeling of calm fly out of his body. An ice-picked scissor lodged itself in his nerves once more and he opened his eyes to look over at the table. He knew whoever wouldn't talk to him, but the sudden snatch of muted people and an almost tranquil feeling made a pang of worry take over his back drawn thoughts. 

The cause of the bump was a group of guys; all adorned with expensive-yet-casual shirts. An immediate categorization of "assholes" flew through his mind, and he kept his eyes on them. They laughed, all too loudly and with an air of grass spewed arrogance. One of them, who was wearing a light green flannel, chugged an entire cup of obviously spiked punched. The group cheered, and the green flannel guy backed up, with his arms raised above his head like a jock that got a home run. 

 _Pretty sure that's not how football works._ Jared wrinkled his nose at that thought. He was really concerning himself with  _sports_ of all things at that moment? He was a (self proclaimed) technological genius, why would he care about sports? The guy in the green flannel abruptly bumped into a small guy in a hand-me-down blue suit that wasn't too fancy, but was nice. Green flannel sneered at the smaller guy, who stared up at him in cotton wrapped worry, and pushed him back into the crowd with a rough hand that probably knocked the air out the poor guy. Green flannel turned back to his goons, and Jared reminded himself that this was not High School Musical. He closed his eyes again, and wondered why he ever decided to watch that worthless exchange. 

"Fucking faggot." A jolt of light bulb shards and gold foil lodged itself into Jared's spine. He looked over at the stereotype birthed guys again, with a blue tinted shock that writhed around his fingers and intestines. The slur resonated in his skull and echoed in his ears with an intensity that almost made tears plummet from his eyes. It was just a word, a slur that was used everyday, so he should've been used to it, but  _god_ it stung. 

_See, you are a fucking freak. It may be seen in a brighter light nowadays, but you'll never be accepted. Surprised you haven't been beaten for it yet._

Thousands of scenarios of himself getting kicked, stabbed behind the school, almost drowned, etcetera, flew in front of his eyes, and a scream pushed at the bottom of his throat. The group was looking at him, and a sharper jolt of hot wax and paper cuts took hold of his brain.

_They know._

_Imagine what they'd do to you. What they should do. You're a freak, you deserve their torture and the pain they'd give you._

Fight or flight kicked in, tagged along with sea urchin painted fear, and he took off.

The thick wall of bodies was hard to push through, but somehow he made it to the door, and he pushed it open with every ounce of force in his short body. The fear spiked in his mind, and he took off towards the bathroom. Jared collapsed in the stall that was furthest from the door, and a sob immediately burst from his throat. He brought his knees up to his chest and stuffed his head between them, oxygen barely making it to his lungs. His fingers clawed at his legs and his chest heaved, burned. The thought of time melted into the amount of moments he got a single breath in; the rest of his thoughts were shattered and only resurfaced after a spurt of imaginary scenes of himself suffocating in the stall. His knuckles turned a sharp white when he clawed at his throat, which left a raspberry slain red streak across the pale skin. Suddenly he pulled back and hit his head against the wall, with which more tears fell with heavy cement wishes and a rush of air plummeted into his starved lungs. His hands flew to the back of his head and he curled up again, this time with more breaths tangling at the back of his throat. The loud sobs that had left his mouth had died off, replaced with a healthy sample of tiny crafted whimpers. 

Jared's eyes were nearly glued shut by the dried tears that covered his face; soft red trails that seemed to be distant, distant cousins of the red scratches across his throat. His knees suddenly ached, but pleaded to stay in the locked position they were in. He sighed, the air coated in a thick layer of dream whispered regrets, and stood up. He tentatively opened the stall door, which made a louder-than-life squeak when it was moved, and stepped out. He refused to lift his head when he got to the sinks, knowing that if he did, he'd only be forced to look at the pathetic image of himself. So he splashed water on his face and left.

Sparkly converse were in his way.

"Hey, are you okay?" A soft, cinnamon-sugar and nutella woven voice appeared in the air. Jared looked up, and was met with the sight of the Madame President herself.

He knew they weren't friends, he knew that he was probably just a ride for that night, but  _god_ he was happy to see her. Melody written tears crawled at his eyes, and he smiled warily at her. 

"I-I," he cleared his throat, "I didn't notice that you were wearing glittery tennis shoes. That's fucking cool." Even if he cleared his voice for a second time, the familiar sob smothered accent wouldn't leave his voice for maybe half an hour. "What are you doing away from the party?" 

Alana's eyes were painted with a worry that didn't need to be blended with the already intense colors of stress. 

"I left to find you. Thank god I did. C'mon, let's go." She slid her hand carefully into his, and a warm blanket seemed to wrap around Jared's body. He stared at their hands in silence for a minute while he was dragged along, not used to the sight. He knew he had grabbed her hand countless times, but this held a feeling of actual caring. 

"To the party?" He asked, eyes still focused on their hands.

"No. Back to your house." Jared tilted his head to the side.

"What? C'mon president, the parties back that way. Let's drink some punch or something." He tugged her hand the opposite way. Alana sighed and faced him, a frown tugged at her glossed lips.

"No, thank you though. I've had enough, and so have you-"

"The party never stops for the insanely cool Jared Kleinman." He sounded like a stubborn toddler, and had actually lightly stomped his foot down. In his head though, it had been said with his normal-yet-cool-and-relaxed voice. 

"Give me your keys, please." Her voice was affirmative, and Jared could then see why she was the student president. It was a highly influential voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, which made a quiet jingling sound when they were dropped into her open hand. "Thank you. Now let's blow this joint." The words sounded absurd coming from her, but Jared laughed, which was a pitiful and almost sickening sound, more so than usual.

"Never say that again, please. Stick to your debate speeches." He muttered, but of course she heard. She smiled, and dragged him like was a tired child to the shitty car they arrived in.

 

The car ride was surprisingly silent, and Jared stayed curled towards the window, glazed eyes fixed on the blurring and almost orange tinted streetlights. He almost fell asleep, but the stop of the car jolted him awake. Alana was the first out, and she stood patiently by Jared's door while he slowly unbuckled. His mind had finally came to terms to what had happened in the bathroom, and poured a bucket of sadness and butterfly built chords onto the boy. The two trudged into the garage, which was somehow neatly arranged, and Jared nearly collapsed onto the tile floor of his house. Alana stepped past his body, with a muttered apology, and disappeared into the void of the house.

A cat scratched feeling of fear clung to his bones at the thought of being alone again, being surrounded with the echo of his self for the rest of the night and life. The earlier repressed second flow of tears sprang to his eyes again, and he shuffled to the wall to lean against. Alana suddenly turned around the corner and they both screamed.

"I'm so sorry!" Alana gasped. Jared hadn't known, but the surprise had knocked his focus on stopping the tears from his mind, and they were free, trickling down his face. "Are you okay? I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just went to go get blankets and I didn't know if you wanted the lights on or not so I just kind of looted through your stuff in the dark." She placed a hand on his shoulder and a bright laugh pushed out of her chest.

"You what?" He muttered.

"I got us blankets!" She cheered. "Because you're sad, and either way tonight was a rip off, so let's just have some fun." She paused for a moment, and there was a flash of doubt across her face. "If that's okay with you of course. I can just leave, I don't want to invade your space, especially if you heal best by yourself." 

Jared almost screamed at the thought of staying by himself for the night. 

"No, no no, it's fine. You can totally stay or whatever." It was a casual invitation that was twisted to a sad tone thanks to the blueberry sadness that was still stuck to his throat. Alana beamed at him though, and tossed a fluffy blanket at him. They wandered to the living room, and Alana demanded that she did the work of setting up a blanket palace.

It turned out to be just a pile of fluffy blankets for Jared, which was fine, and he settled down on it.

"Let's watch a movie." The boy muttered. "Any favorites?"

She deserved to have at least some fun while bordered up at his house for the night, so of course he let her pick. She gladly took the remote and flicked through Netflix, until settling on "Midnight in Paris". He had no idea what it was but smiled at Alana when she looked at him for approval. He watched for a little bit, but a soft claw of sleep wrapped itself around Jared and shared his blankets for half an hour, until finally it slid his eyelids closed.

The presence of another human nearby was a marigold euphoria for sleep, and kept him from waking up when a petal slipped into his mouth when the dream that wandered through his brain shifted to that boy with the stupid hair and the blue tux that was with the Murphy kids for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this so awful I was laughing so hard while writing it's so bad lmaooooo  
> also in case you're confused whenever I cry the dried tears kind of leave red marks on my face so ?? I kind of use that in here because I don't know how else it would be sorry ??


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